"Is it always soft like this?" asked Frank.

"No, it becomes hard when it is very, very cold."

"How cold, uncle?" asked Donald, looking at the thermometer.

"Thirty-nine or forty degrees below zero," was the reply. "In the coldest of countries alcohol thermometers are used. It must be much colder than that to freeze alcohol."

"Why is mercury used, uncle?" asked Frank.

"Because it takes a very great heat to make it boil." said Uncle Robert.

"Then you have seen how quickly it shows a change of temperature. When it is warm we call it a high temperature, and when it is cold it is called a low temperature."

"That is because the mercury goes up when it is hot, and down when it is cold, isn't it?" said Donald. "I wonder how it would feel if it was forty degrees below zero. See, it is away down to there!"

"Do you remember that day last winter when Peter froze his ears driving to town?" asked Frank. "Well, it was twenty below that day at the post office. I saw it. But father is calling me; I must go."

CHAPTER IV.

WITH THE ANIMALS.

"Don't forget to set that hen, Donald," called Mr. Leonard, as he and Frank went away together. "I think there are enough of those Plymouth Rock eggs for one more setting."

"You ought to see our little chickens, Uncle Robert," said Susie. "They are just too cunning for anything."

"When you go to set the hen, Donald," said Uncle Robert, "I will go with you. Then you can show me everything about the barn."

Donald went to the storeroom and soon came back with the eggs.

"There are thirteen," he said, as he joined Uncle Robert in the porch, "but I think she can take care of them. She's one of the largest hens we have."

Then together they went to the henhouse, which stood next to the barn.

The chickens, seeing the basket in Donald's hand, ran toward him.

"You needn't think I am going to feed you again so soon," he said. "You have had one breakfast this morning."

Donald always talked to all the animals as though they could understand him.

[Ill.u.s.tration: The poultry yard.]

The mother hens paid no attention. With quiet dignity they walked about, their broods of fluffy little chicks looking like b.a.l.l.s of gold in the sunshine. With a "Cluck! cluck!" each anxious mother called her children to her as her sharp eyes discovered some new dainty. Then the greedy little yellow things ran as fast as their short legs could carry them to be the first to take the good things from the self-sacrificing mother.

"How many little chickens are there?" asked Uncle Robert as they stopped to watch them.

"There are forty-six hatched," said Donald. "Three hens are setting, and this one will make four."

"I see you have some fine turkeys, too," said Uncle Robert.

The big turkey c.o.c.k spread his tail and strutted about before them as if he understood how much he was admired.

"Mother thinks a great deal of her turkeys," said Donald. "They are much harder to raise than the chickens. But mother knows just how to do it.

We don't lose many."

"Have you ducks and geese, too?" asked Uncle Robert.

"Yes," said Donald, "but I don't see any of them about. They must have gone to the creek. There they are," and Donald pointed toward the pasture where a line of white could be seen moving slowly along under the trees.

"They march pretty well, don't they?" said Uncle Robert. "Do they always go that way?"

"Not always," said Donald, "but very often. When that old drake wants to take a swim, he starts and the rest follow. You'd never catch him walking behind."

"As the head of the family I suppose he thinks it is his place to lead,"

said Uncle Robert, smiling.

Donald laughed. "Wouldn't it he funny," he said, "if father made us follow him that way?"

They found the hen to whom they were carrying the eggs on an empty nest.

Donald drove her off that he might put in the eggs, but she was very cross with him for disturbing her. She walked about with her feathers ruffled up, clucking angrily, but eagerly went back to her nest as soon as they were gone. She moved the eggs about with her feet, placed them to suit herself, and contentedly settled down.

Donald then led Uncle Robert into the barn, where old white Nell stood in her stall. Besides Nell there were three strong Normandies in other stalls, and two stalls that were empty.

Mr. Leonard had a very large barn. There was the main floor, running through from the two big rolling doors at either end. The great hay mows on both sides, reached by short ladders, held some of last year's cutting. Under the mows were the stalls for the horses and the stanchions for the cattle. A machine for cutting hay stood on the barn floor.

Under the barn was a deep, roomy cellar, in one corner of which was the sheep pen, lighted by large windows.

Near the barn was a tool house, in which all the tools and machinery were housed during the winter.

"It pays to have a nice warm barn and a good place to keep the tools from rusting," said Uncle Robert. "Do you always keep the horses in the barn when they are not in use?"

"Oh, no," said Donald. "Sometimes they run in the pasture along the creek. The cows and sheep are there now. After the timothy and clover are cut we'll put them in those fields."

"Do you keep many cows?"

"We have six cows and two calves," replied Donald. "Father gave one calf to Frank and one to me. They're beauties. All our cows are Jerseys.

Frank and I are going to keep ours until they're grown. Then if they give as much milk as the other cows do--and I'm sure they will--we are going to take it to the creamery and sell it. There's a creamery not far from here."

"Does your father sell the milk there now?" asked Uncle Robert.

"Not now," said Donald. "Mother likes to make the b.u.t.ter herself."

"That's why it is so good," said Uncle Robert.

"Has Susie a calf too?"

[Ill.u.s.tration: The Barn.]